"How do you like my new construction?" Guarov asked, watching Carroway closely. Carroway did his best to give away nothing in his expression. "It looks to be sturdy, m'lord." Guarov looked around. "I guess you're entitled to this chamber, as your family was noble, but if it were up to me, I'd have you in shackles in the lower level." "It isn't," Harrtuck growled.
Guarov ignored Harrtuck. "The queen has not yet awakened. As it stands, your treachery is a hanging offense. But if she and the heir die, the Council of Nobles will have no choice but to charge you with treason, conspiracy against the king and regicide." Guarov's dark eyes narrowed, and the muscles of his jaw tightened. "The penalty for which is to be hanged, drawn and quartered."
Carroway blanched. He tried to keep his face emotionless, but his heart raced and one hand balled into a fist. "I understand."
"Are you familiar with the process?" Guarov pressed. "They hang you until you're nearly dead, and a healer revives you. Then you're broken on the wheel until your bones snap and your joints are sundered, and finally, they take four large horses-"
"For the love of the gods, enough!" Harrtuck said.
"You forget your place, Captain Harrtuck."
Harrtuck's expression made his feelings clear, but he fell silent.
"I am familiar." Carroway drew on all of his acting skill to keep his voice steady.
A cold smile touched the corners of Guarov's face. "There is an alternative. If you were to
make a full confession of your crimes before the court, I might be able to get the executioner to shorten your pain. But it would need to be a full confession: that you forced the queen to your bed, and that you went to the king's lodge in a jealous rage to strike her down, killing Crevan as he tried to protect her." Carroway's jaw was tight. "I understand."
Guarov met his eyes. "It's unfortunate about the girl. As an accomplice, she'll be banished under interdiction, along with any bastard she bears to you." His eyes gleamed as he saw Carroway flinch. "Do you know what interdiction is? She'll be anathema, by writ of the king. No noble house or legitimate inn may give her shelter without incurring royal penalty." He paused. "Still, I can be merciful. If she were to renounce you publicly, tell the court that you abused your patronage to take advantage of her and that she feared for her life to go against you, I could be persuaded to lessen her sentence to banishment only. She might find work in a tavern instead of a bawdy house."
Carroway's fist tightened until his nails dug into his palm. "Let her renounce me. I'll be dead."
Guarov's eyes shone. "The king may be in the field for months with the army. If the queen dies, this matter cannot be allowed to fester. Listen for the death knell. I'll see you hang that same night."
Guarov turned with a flourish of his heavy cape. "See that his door is secured and doubly guarded," he commanded Harrtuck as he left the room. "We can't afford another escape." When Guarov was gone, Harrtuck looked to Carroway. "I'm sorry, Carroway. I have authority over a mob, but I can't act against the Council." "What have you heard? Is Kiara dying?"
Harrtuck shrugged. "Cerise is worried. Kiara hasn't awakened. It may be the wormroot. Cerise still doesn't know how it may affect the baby. Goddess knows what a mess it made of Tris last year! And unfortunately, we have no idea when Tris and the army will return." Carroway turned away, walking a few steps to stand before the fire. "Is there anything you can do to protect Macaria?"
Harrtuck snorted. "I've got my hands full protecting you. But it may not be quite as dire as Guarov makes it sound. Alle told me that some of the Council are livid about the way he's been threatening you. She says Acton practically had a stroke when he heard about the gallows, he
was so angry. Lord Dravan nearly came to blows with Guarov over it. He's taking this personally, since he was a friend of your father's. And according to Alle, Eadoin's gotten wind of it and informed the Council that she will join them in person before the week is through if she has to wake from the dead."
"I'm grateful. But if Kiara dies, the court will need someone to blame. Crevan's already dead. I'm convenient."
Harrtuck nodded. "Aye. And all too few seem to remember Guarov's ties to Lady Nadine to see that he's finally taking her vengeance." He paused. "I hope it doesn't come to this, but I won't see you suffer." He took a dagger from his belt and handed it, hilt first, to Carroway. Harrtuck met his eyes. "I've only seen one man drawn and quartered. I haven't the stomach to see another-least of all a friend. Many a soldier's turned his blade on his own wrists rather than give his enemy that satisfaction. 'Tis a quick and honorable way to seek the Lady, if there's no other choice."
Carroway swallowed hard and took the blade, concealing it in his doublet. "Thank you." Harrtuck laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'll see that the guards bring you brandy by mistake tonight. Take comfort where you can."
Chapter Thirty-three
Jonmarc Vahanian rose just after dawn. His room at Airenngeir, Astasia's manor house, was opulent, furnished almost as lavishly as King Staden's palace. A cold breakfast waited on a side table, along with his weapons and a new sword to replace the one broken in the battle at the Lady's temple. A note in Gabriel's handwriting drew a rough map to show him the way back to the main road. The house was silent, giving Jonmarc to believe that few, if any, mortal servants assisted Astasia and her brood.
He ate quickly and buckled on his weapons, trying the new sword in his hand. It was perfectly balanced and beautifully made: Jonmarc was certain Gabriel had a hand in its choosing. His body ached as he moved. Vigulf's healing had cured only the wounds that were life-threatening. Other damage, such as his cracked ribs and the gashes from the battle, still throbbed. Jonmarc bandaged them as best he could, resigned to a painful ride home.
I'm afraid of what I'll find when I get back to Dark Haven. I saw Malesh burn. I know what that had to have done to Carina. I have to return. People are depending on me. But Dark Haven without her will never be home.
He descended the broad staircase without encountering another person, living or dead. The manor house was deserted, its undead occupants safely resting in hidden chambers below. Jonmarc found a horse tethered outside for him, its saddlebags already provisioned for the ride. Without a backward glance, he swung up to the saddle.
The road was deep with snow but passable. He saw few other travelers, and those he passed gave him wary glances. Knowing how he must look, Jonmarc couldn't blame them. His leather great cloak was cut and torn from the battle, stained with blood and ichor. He was dirty with grime and sweat and sported a week's growth of beard. His tunic was torn open at the neck, dark and stiff with his own blood. I look like a brigand, or worse. I'll be lucky if I don't have to outride guardsmen to get home.
The day was bitterly cold. Jonmarc did his best to keep his thoughts focused on scanning the road for threats. As for what would happen when he returned to Dark Haven, he kept his mind blank. Time enough for that when he arrived. He ate a cold lunch as he rode, unwilling to chance
causing a scene at a tavern. Candlemarks slipped by, marked only by the crunch of his horse's hooves.
Maybe Gabriel was right. Maybe Riqua and Taru were able to heal Carina, protect her from what happened to Malesh. Part of him clung to that thought as he rode. Mid-afternoon, he reached a rise in the road. In the distance, Jonmarc could see Dark Haven against the snow-covered mountains, and all hope died. From its tower flew a flag of mourning.